


He Hit You With A Train

by Emily_F6



Series: Peter Parker Prompts [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25757335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: Peter had known pain before.  Plenty of times.  It came with the territory of saving people, hunting things….the family business?No…that was from Supernatural.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Peter Parker Prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866505
Comments: 9
Kudos: 231





	He Hit You With A Train

**Prompt: He hit you with a train**

Peter had known pain before. Plenty of times. It came with the territory of saving people, hunting things….the family business?

No…that was from Supernatural.

Saving people. He was a superhero, his groggy brain told him. He saved people and he got hurt and Mr. Stark was always there to patch him up. After a rough patrol or injuries acquired after web shooter malfunctions or his own stupidity as he tried to outdo himself for how many flips he could do after jumping off increasingly tall buildings, he had called Mr. Stark more and more over the last two years, and the man would gripe at him, hands gentle as he patched him up, sewing up cuts or wrapping sprains, his first aid kit stocked with ice packs and sewing kits and bandages. 

But that had been before…and now Mr. Stark couldn’t help him anymore. He had to do it alone. Which meant, at some point, he had to get up. Force his body to sit up and force his eyes open and figure out where he was. Because all he knew at the moment was how much his body hurt, and that he could hear other voices nearby…but they weren’t speaking English. 

And then there was another voice.

“You let me into this cell or I’ll blast the fucking door off!” The voice came to him as if from far away, and Peter groaned, shifting. He was sitting up, propped against a wall, and everything hurt. Everything. His back. His lungs. His arms and legs. He needed to figure out why. But the other person was yelling. “I don’t give a shit!” There was a silence, and then the other person was sighing, sounding a little less furious but still irritated. “I don’t speak…Friday, translate, would you?” 

Friday?

There were more words…he must have dozed off again, but then a door was creaking open and someone was right in front of him, rushed footsteps not stopping until someone nearly ran into him. Hands gripped his shoulders, then one cupped his cheek, careful of what Peter assumed were bruises. He had to be covered in bruises considering how much everything hurt. “Wake up Peter…please. Please wake up.” The familiar voice begged, and Peter frowned in his attempted sleep. 

“Missr…Stark?” He asked, sure he had it wrong. Mr. Stark was still in the medbay. He’d talked to the man right before he’d left for Europe, sitting beside the hospital bed and promising that he’d be careful, all the while putting a puzzle together with Morgan. Mr. Stark had told him that he was done with Iron Man…that he’d made a promise to Pepper, considering he’d lost most of one arm, and it would take a couple more weeks before he was even supposed to be out of bed. So there was no way he could be there, Peter told himself.

“Yeah, Pete. Look at me, huh?” The man pleaded. But Mr. Stark couldn’t be there.

Peter groaned, then clenched his eyes shut as tightly as he could before trying to force them open. “You’re…s’posed to be in bed.” He mumbled, blinking warily at the man. Was he even real? What if this was another hallucination? And then it came to him with a moment of startling clarity, blood turning to ice. Beck. Beck was doing this.

“Yeah, and you’re supposed to be with the rest of your classmates!” Mr. Stark cried. 

Peter stared at him, then shook his head, breath catching in his throat. “It’s not real…this isn’t real! I know he’s not here!” He cried, jerking away and looking around for Beck, for a crack in the illusion. “It’s not real!” He screamed at the concerned looking men sitting beside him in what appeared to be a jail cell. The last thing he remembered was crawling in through the window of the train that had broken what felt like all of his ribs…why would he be in jail? Okay, so maybe they might have put a random guy on a train dressed in a weird spandex suit in jail…especially if he didn’t have a ticket. “Get away from me!” He snapped, pulling away from the hands trying to hold him.

“Peter, hey. Focus up, bud. I’m real. I’m really here.” The hallucination murmured, voice so gentle at familiar they Peter’s eyes filled. He so wanted it to be Mr. Stark…didn’t feel like he could take another beating from Beck…couldn’t take any more illusions.

“Then tell me something Beck wouldn’t know,” Peter whispered, trying not to cry.

“I’m going to kill Quentin Beck. How’s that for something he doesn’t know?” The man all but snarled, voice full of hatred. Peter continued to stare at him, a tear finally escaping, and the hallucination softened, the flesh and blood hand tightening on his shoulder while the metal one brushed a tear away. “I love you. So much. I spent every day of those five years, two months, and eighteen days wishing I had more time with you, to tell you how important you are to me. You’re my kid…my son, in everything but blood. I promised you before you left that I’d stay in bed and be good and that when you got back, we’d play with some new suit designs for you. Morgan said you should have a pink suit and you said that was a great idea. And then, when Nick fucking Fury told me that he’d gotten you mixed up in all this shit, I snuck out of the house in a suit like a teenager, stole my own private jet, and flew to Europe to find you and kill the guy that hurt my boy.”

Peter closed his eyes, the sob escaping as he dropped his head forward, forehead landing on the man’s shoulder. “I messed up, Mr. Stark.” He sobbed, words barely making it out of his mouth. “He…he took the glasses and I thought…I thought he was a good guy but he tricked me and…I was so stupid…”

“You were not stupid. He’s a manipulative asshole and I swear he won’t be a problem for much longer.” He soothed, arm’s around Peter. “How about we get you out of jail, huh, Pete? Never thought I’d be saying that…how’d you end up here anyway?”

“He…he made me see things…and then…I didn’t know what was real…”. Peter choked out, feeling all of five years old. “And I stepped back and there was a train…”

“He hit you with a train?” Mr. Stark demanded, jaw dropping as horror took over his features.

Part nodded, despite the fact that any other time he would have joked that Beck hadn’t been driving the train, so no, he hadn’t been the one to hit him. Instead, he went on with his explanation. “I climbed in through one of the windows and sat down…I should have gotten off but it…it hurt.” He had to swallow back a sob as he fought to continue, his hand gripping Mr. Stark’s metal wrist. “I fell asleep and…I guess they brought me here?”

Mr. Stark presses his lips together, then nodded. “Okay. Think you can stand up?” He nodded, letting Mr. Stark get an arm around him, groaning in pain when he helped him to his feet. 

“Do you have to pay something or…”

“Don’t worry about it, Pete.” Mr. Stark assured him quietly, supporting him as they walked together out of the police station and out to the street where a car waited. The man eased Peter into the passenger seat, then climbed into the driver’s side, not taking off but leaning over the middle console, wrapping his arms around Peter and resting his cheek on his head. “I love you kid. So much.”

“I love you too,” Peter whispered, biting back a sob. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, bud. We’re going to get you fixed up, and then I’m going to wipe the floor with that asshole.” 

Peter had to smile, laughing a little when he ruffled his hair. “Thanks for coming.”

“I’ll always have your back, Pete. Always.”


End file.
